fine! Tears were trickling from his eyes; he wept like one who is
unfortunate. Why did he do that? Perhaps he came from a land where
the people had never heard of death--what do you think, sailor?"

"I don't remember him, Noni. You speak so much about him, while I
don't remember him."

"He was a fool," says Haggart. "He spoilt his death for himself,
and spoilt me my life. I curse him, Khorre. May he be cursed. But
that doesn't matter, Khorre--no!"

Silence.

"They have good gin on this coast," says Khorre. "He'll pass
easily, Noni. If you have cursed him there will be no delay; he'll
slip into hell like an oyster."

Haggart shakes his head:

"No, Khorre, no! I am sad. Ah, sailor, why have I stopped here,
where I hear the sea? I should go away, far away on land, where the
people don't know the sea at all, where the people have never heard
about the sea--a thousand miles away, five thousand miles away!"

"There is no such land."

"There is, Khorre. Let us drink and laugh, Khorre. That organist
lies. Sing something for me, Khorre--you sing well. In your hoarse
voice I hear the creaking of ropes. Your refrain is like a sail that
is torn by the storm. Sing, sailor!"